Its My Life Eight

SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTIONING ALL ALONG is that each of these chapters should be able to stand alone, and that the reader stopping by need not necessarily read all the previous chapters in order to (hopefully) enjoy this one, though I'd love you to.

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Chapter 8 finds us still married in 1977. Nothing much has changed for us; still living in the same crooked little house, still broke and still not living the kind of married life that I had envisioned.

I'm still doing whatever Mike wanted me to do as well, and what Mike wanted me to do one night in 1977 was to do put on a rather skimpy dress, wear nothing underneath it and accompany him to dinner.

I didn't have to go, but I did. I wore the dress Mike told me to wear, which revealed everything I had as well as all I lacked. I wore nothing underneath either, because that was what Mike wanted, and I went to dinner with Mike because, well... it was a night out, and it wasn't going to be at a fast food place.

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Chapter 1. When in Rome.

Rome, New York, that is. Rome was about ten miles from our house, and was even nore dull than Utica. There was a significant Italian population in the area, and so it was no surprise when Mike pulled up in front of an Italian restuarant, since that seemed to be the prevailing enterprise in those parts.

"A little fancy for us, isn't it?" I observed as I looked around after entering. "Tablecloths instead of paper placemats - and forks too!" I added dryly as I looked at the dining room while we waited to be greeted and seated.

"Nothing's too good for my baby," Mike said as he gave me a squeeze. "And you look so beautiful tonight too."

That comment certainly should have sent the warning signals up, but I was so starved for compliments I took it happily. Besides, as I've mentioned many times before, Mike could charm the birds out of the trees when he wanted to. Heaven help the poor birds after that, however.

Mike whispered something to the young woman who had appeared with menus in hand, and she promptly disappeared, walking to the back of the dining area.

"What's up?" I asked innocently. "No open tables?" I said while noting that there were only a few parties scattered about in the spacious dining room.

Mike told me not to worry, which was another warning sign. We were going to have a very special evening, he assured me, and when the hostess reappeared she was smiling broadly and escorted us to the far corner of the room.

There was a crescent shaped booth in the dimly light corner, and when we neared it, a sharp dressed couple stood up to greet us.

"Hello Mike," the man said in a very business-like tone as he shook my husband's hand.

He was shaking Mike's hand but his eyes were elsewhere.

"This must be your Rebecca!" he said as he broke away from Mike and held out his hand, a big grin showing an immaculate set of sparkling teeth. "I'm Tony and this is my wife Carmela."

I stuck out my hand and Tony took it and raised it to his lips, kissing it lightly, while I kept my arm down as best I could, since I was still doing the unshaven armpit look at Mike's insistence, and this dress left precious little to the imagination.

Tony was probably in his forties, and very ethnic looking. Bronze skin, wavy black hair and about 6' and well built. He was looking really good for his age, and the pinkie ring made him appear like he had just arrived from the set of The Godfather.

His wife Carmela was something else altogether. Very exotic features - a Central New York version of Sophia Loren - a look that was sultry and sensual without even trying. Flawless copper skin, full red lips and, as she came up to me and hugged me, one heck of a body hidden away under her elegant pant suit that had probably cost more than every stitch of clothes I owned combined.

Tony had me slide into the booth and I found myself stuck in the back of the semi-circle, where I was quickly joined by Tony on my left and Carmela, who slid next to me on my right. Mike hopped into the booth opposite me on the end, and we were all set. One big happy family.

2. This is cozy.

It was a very intimate and somewhat secluded booth, but the way we were seated make it look a little strange. Mike was sitting on the other end of the crescent shaped booth, and then there was a large space. Then there was Tony, yours truly and Carmela. A more accurate description would be TonyMeCarmela.

There was plenty of room for Tony to have slid over, but that was obviously not on his agenda. I looked at Mike, who smiled at me while looking like a happy puppy.

A waitress came with bread and a couple of bottles of Chianti, and I lept for my glass as soon as it was poured.

"Rebecca likes her wine?" Tony asked me, and I assured him I did as I set the empty glass down.

"Mike described how beautiful you were, but he did not do you justice," Tony said softly to me, and I gasped very audibly.

It wasn't his compliment, which he delivered in a deep and seductive voice, that made me gasp. It was the hand that arrived on my thigh about mid-sentence that caused my involuntary response. Tony's left hand was softly stroking my thigh about halfway up, and as he rubbed it I felt my dress being inched up ever so slightly.

I was about to tell him he needed an eye doctor if he thought I was beautiful, especially considering the way his wife looked, just before the hand hit the thigh, but the words stuck in my throat as I looked to Mike for help. Mike was concerned as well - he was having a great deal of trouble buttering bread, drinking wine, and watching my reactions from get felt up all at the same time.

The crazy part of this was that this guy was rubbing my leg while his wife was sitting right next to me on my other side. What if she saw him?

"Isn't Rebecca lovely, dear?" Tony asked his wife.

"Yes," Carmela said. "She has a very wholesome and natural beauty about her."

Carmela was clearly not troubled by her husband's wandering hand. I could tell because the next thing I knew Carmela's right hand was sliding over my other thigh.

"Dressing?" Mike was asking me, and I broke out of my daze to see that the waitress was taking orders.

"Italian," I squeaked out in embarrassment, as it had to be obvious to the waitress what was going on under the table, but if she saw, she gave no sign.

Tony's hand was patiently rubbing my thigh in a deliberate, circular motion as I squirmed in the tufted vinyl seat. My dress slid up further as I did, but Carmela was working her hand under it anyway, and when I felt the back of her hand reach my bush I jumped a bit.

The salads arrived and we ate them like any normal group would. Mike with his eyes devouring my every emotion, me eating with a dazed look on my face and my thighs quivering, and Tony and Carmela both digging into their salads with one hand while feeling me up with the other.

3. Dinner is served.

The salad dishes were taken away, and more wine appeared. Mike was drinking a lot of Chianti - almost as much as I was, and it suddenly struck me that it must be because he wasn't picking up the check. Of course! This restaurant must belong to Tony and Carmela.

"This is a charming place," I said as Tony and Carmela's hands met while raking their fingers through my bush.

"I'm glad you like it," Tony said. "The dining experience is enhanced greatly when you have such a lovely guest."

"Original look, what with the candles in the wine bottles and the red and white checkered tablecloths," I added, the wine giving me the courage to be a little sarcastic.

Tony chuckled at that, showing a sense of humor at a remark that could have easily been taken with less grace, but then again, his hand WAS in my pubic hair.

"A lot of it is what people expect to see," Tony said. "I try to provide something a little different during the course of the meal, so that people will be able to say that - hey, that was unique! I didn't expect that!"

"Ahhh!" I yelled out, as Tony's finger slid into my pussy and he began working it around with a great deal of enthusiasm.

I looked at Mike again, but he was of no help. In fact, he looked like he was going to cum any minute too, as my body twitched and contorted spastically. I glanced down and saw my dress had been worked up so far that I could easily observe what was being done to me, and I suppose I could have put a napkin over my lap, but what would the Board of Health say to that?

"That looks great!" Mike bellowed as the waitress arrived with appetizers, and I buried my face in my hands as an order of mussels was set in front of me by the young woman, apparently unfazed by the sight of the arms reaching under the table toward me.

Tony pulled his finger out of me as his arrived, apparently needing both hands to attack his food, but just as I began to get my bearings again, I felt Carmela's finger working its way inside of me.

"I wish I had gotten that," Carmela whispered in my ear. "Can I try one?"

My fork jabbed at the mussel with all the steadiness one would expect from a girl with another woman's finger massaging her clit, finally managing to poke one while bringing my legs together in an futile effort to cum.

My trembling hand brought the morsel up to Carmela's mouth, and she smiled as those luscious red lips parted, reaching up with her free hand to steady the shaky fork as she took the mussel into her mouth while continuing to hold my hand.

"Mmmmm - delicious," Carmela said in a husky voice, her smoky eyes sending a shiver down my spine. "A very wise choice," she added, although I didn't even remember ordering them.

Carmela let go of my hand as she pulled her finger out of me, leaving me once again hanging on the verge of cumming. She smiled at my predicament while bringing her adventurous hand up from under the table and then held her glistening index finger up for all to see before sliding it between her lips.

"How is it dear?" Tony asked from beside me.

"As yummy as it looks."

4. Chicken Parmigiana.

I didn't remember ordering it, but it looked great, and so I dug in during a lull in the under the table action. It wasn't completely dead under there, as Carmela was playing footsie with me while Tony's thigh rubbed up against mine, but we managed to have a conversation of sorts.

I was asked about my career, and I told about my thrilling life as a shift leader at Carrols fast food joint, and Mike entertained one and all with tales of moving furniture up narrow stairwells. It was actually starting to resemble an normal group of people eating in a restaurant until we finished our entrees.

Carmela lit up a cigarette, and as I listened in shock, Mike began telling her about his cock. It was almost like he was trying to sell her a vacuum cleaner or something, and I cringed as I sat there listening. Carmela's free hand went back down under the table and began rubbing my thigh again, either out of boredom or arousal.

"Enjoying everything so far Rebecca?" Tony asked me.

"Very much," I said. "You can call me Becky if you want."

"If you don't mind, I prefer to call you Rebecca," Tony said as he filled our wine glasses with the remnants of what was our fourth or fifth bottle. "I love the sound of your name. Rebecca seems roll off my tongue so nicely"

Tony's fingers touched the back of my hand and began a tantalizingly slow journey up my forearm, leaving a trail of goose bumps as they went.

"Ticklish?" Tony asked me as he swiveled to face me.

"No... sensitive," I said as we looked at the tiny hairs standing up on my arm much like a porcupine as I rested it on the edge of the table.

"How about this? Tony asked, as his other hand touched the inside of my elbow and began sliding up the inside of my arm, causing me to jump in my seat.

"No... don't... it's okay," Tony said firmly as I instinctively brought my arm down to my side, and with Tony's assistance I reluctantly put my elbow back on the table.

"You have beautiful arms and shoulders," Tony said as his hand slid slowly up in the inside of my arm until his fingers were stroking the hair under my arm.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment as he ran his fingers through my armpit hair a few times before sliding back down and repeating the action. My eyes were screwed shut so tightly it hurt.

"Blushing?" Tony said sotto voce. "That's sweet. You're even cuter when you do that, and I wouldn't have thought that possible. Relax and enjoy me enjoying you."

I managed to open my eyes a bit and saw that Tony wasn't laughing but instead was intently watching the effects his gentle touching was having on me. I relaxed and let him have his way, and my thighs began to grind together as he stroked my arm - up, down, over, and under - with such barely restrained passion that I felt I could have an orgasm at any moment.

"If you like my fingers you'll fall in love with my tongue," Tony promised.

"I... don't..."

"Can I be brutally honest Rebecca?"

5. Well, that's honest.

With my thigh being caressed by Carmela, and my entire arm practically being made love to by Tony, I was a quivering bowl of jelly, and could only manage an affirmative nod at that question.

"I want to fuck you, Rebecca."

A chill ran down my spine as Tony whispered that sentence into my ear, and it was a chill that went down my entire body.

"Does that shock you? Offend you?"

"Well, that's honest," I admitted, responding in a shaky voice.

"I'm being honest also when I tell you that, besides the woman next you, I can't ever remember wanting to fuck a girl as much as I do you," Tony said. "The fact that I want to stick my cock into your pussy and fuck you until you beg for mercy - does that bother you?"

I meekly shrugged my shoulders in response, dying to tell him what I felt.

"I want to eat your cunt until my tongue is limp, and I want you to suck my cock so hard it hurts," Tony continued. "I want to ravage you so much that your husband will end up having to carry you out of here in his arms."

"What about - Carmela?" I asked. "Are her and Mike..."

"No, your Mike can watch," Tony said coldly. "I told him he could watch us."

"Carmela?"

"She wants you too, as you must have figured out by now," Tony said. "I - we share everything. We wouldn't want it any other way."

"I figured Mike would want to... you know," I said, looking over at Mike who was eagerly taking it all in and nodding at me.

"You can't always get what you want," Tony said. "Just because your husband is willing to share you doesn't mean I'm going to let him have Carmela. I love her, as strange as that may sound after all I've just said to you, and I would never allow him to so much as touch her."

I nodded as if to say I understood.

"I'll bet a lot of men want to fuck you," Tony whispered in my ear as chills raced up and down my spine. "Anybody ever come right out and say it like that? Didn't think so, but I could tell it turned you on to hear it. I could see it in your eyes. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Only one thing remains to be decided on then," Tony said.

"What's that?" I asked as I turned to see what Tony was gesturing toward.

"Dessert!" Tony exclaimed, waving at the cart that the waitresses had brought over.

For the record, I had a cannoli.

6. Just desserts.

We ate dessert very leisurely, and Tony and Carmela continued their teasing between my legs. My thighs were now parted willingly, but their touching was kept external, despite my best efforts to try and change that. I could smell the scent that drifted up from between my legs as I sat with my thighs spread wide. It was the smell of a girl in heat.

Tony and Carmela had me on the ropes with all their touching, and the brutal and raw manner that Tony had talked to me had left me on the verge of orgasm from mere words. If they had told me to lay down right there and fuck the whole kitchen staff, I would have. My body was shivering uncontrollably as they all dawdled over dessert, and then Tony called the waitress over and asked for a pot of coffee.

I exhaled audibly when I heard that, and fidgeted around like I had fleas at the prospect of another half hour of this tender torture. The thought that I might have been drugged crossed my mind, because the way I was feeling was positively feral, but I hadn't noticed anything strange, and I was aware of everything that was going on around me. Very aware.

"What's the matter Rebecca?" Carmela asked in a hushed tone.

"Nothing," I croaked and then shuddered as Carmela's finger slid down the length of my opening.

"My, you're so very wet," Carmela whispered as her finger slid along my sopping pussy lips. "Did my husband tell you what he wanted to do to you?"

"Yes."

"You're still here, so I guess that must mean you like the idea. I have some ideas of my own, did Tony tell you that?"

I nodded as Carmela stroked my pussy, as I fought the urge to scream out in frustration.

"As soon as we saw you enter the room, I could tell Tony was going to be crazy about you," Carmela said. "You're like his fantasy coming to life in front of him, and I love it so much when he gets as aroused as he is right now. He's really an exceptional lover, as you're going to find out."

"Please," I whimpered, futily thrusting my body forward in an attempt to impale myself on Carmela's finger.

"Soon Rebecca," Carmela assured me. "Just relax and enjoy yourself. Anticipation is part of the dining experience. Embrace it!"

I was in such exquisite agony from being this couple's plaything for what had to be almost 2 hours that I was on the verge of madness. I just wanted to cum - and I was so close!

"You ladies having a little girl talk over there?" Tony asked innocently, and I looked at him with what had to be a dazed expression on my face. "Are you two discussing anything interesting?"

Mike's face was beet red, and sweat was rolling down his face as he watched me being teased, and he kept nodding his head at me as if to say - go ahead, but what that meant I didn't know. I wasn't doing anything; it was all being done to me thus far.

"Yes," I answered, and with that I reached over and grabbed at Tony's crotch under the table.

His cock wasn't tough to find, as it was hard and throbbing along the inside of his leg. Tony grunted in surprise, and then smiled as I began rubbing the bulge, squeezing and pulling at his cock through the layers of fabric.

"Mmmm - that feels nice," Tony said with a smile, and then turned toward Mike while I continued to massage his tool. "Know what your lovely wife is doing to me right now, Mike?"

Mike shook his head no as he tried to pour wine out of an empty bottle, setting it down awkwardly as he stared at us.

"Your Rebecca is rubbing the bulge in my pants," Tony told Mike matter-of-factly. "What do you think of that? She's pulling on my cock as I speak, and with a lot of enthusiasm too, I might add."

"Okay," Mike said, his voice breaking and making him sound much less macho than usual.

"It's what you wanted, right Mike?" Tony added, and Mike turned his eyes away from mine as he nodded curtly.

"Can we go?" I whimpered to Tony, giving up trying to figure out why Mike wanted me to do this, and in such a state of heat that I could think of one thing.

"Tell your husband what you want me - us to do to you," Tony said.

I looked at Tony and then at Mike, but they were both looking at each other.

"Please," I said in a muted voice.

"Tell him Rebecca," Tony said, never taking his eyes off Mike, who was now looking down into his empty wine glass. "Trust me. Your husband wants to hear it from your lips. Tell Mike what you want me to do to you."

Mike's eyes lifted and he looked up in a rather weird way, biting his lower lip as he nodded ever so slightly.

"Fuck me," I finally said. "I want Tony to fuck me. I want them both to do whatever they want to me."